


Never Throwing Away My One-Shots

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is straight-up me, Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Movie Set, Coffee, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, I Tried, Immaturity, John Laurens Loves Turtles, M/M, Nonbinary Peggy Schuyler, Other, Trans Alexander Hamilton, Turtles, You sir are a complete and utter butt-head, fight me, idiocy, shut up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16432007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hamilton one-shots





	1. Smol In Fall Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're about... five or six? I think they're in kindergarten. Anyway. They're adorable and this is Jamilams.

"A LIZARD!" the tiny black-haired boy shouts, running towards a girl in a little blue Cinderella dress. The girl giggles and waves enthusiastically. "LEXI HAM SANDWICH!" They embrace tightly and grin at one another.

Alex, the little boy, starts rambling at about a million words a minute. "Eliza did you see the pumpkins I got to paint one and Mama took a picture of it and she said she liked it and I like it too and the lady there said it was very creative and John painted one too and he painted a turtle and a bird and a fish and it was boo-ti-ful and he's my best friend and you're almost as bestest a friend as him you guys are all great do you wanna go do the corn maze with me?"

Eliza laughs but then has to shake her head. "Angie said we're supposed to stay with Mom and Dad and not go running off. Maybe you could find John and do the corn maze with him?"

The boy hugs her again and squeals, deafening everyone in a radius of ten miles. "Yeah! You're a jean-ee-us! Thanks Eliza and have a nice day with AND PEGGY!"

He runs off, as Eliza watches his little green sweatshirt bob away in the crowd. Once he's out of sight, she sighs. He's only five and he's already stealing hearts.

~

"JOHN JOHN JOHN JOHN JOHN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Alex shouts, sprinting up behind his 'best friend' and hugging him around the waist. John turns around and grins, waving a piece of paper in Alex's face. "LEXI MY MOM SAW A TURTLE AND TOOK A PICTURE OF IT WITH HER OLD CAMERA AND IT PRINTED OUT AND SO I HAVE A REAL ACTUAL PICTURE OF A TURTLE!"

The two boys  _ooh_  and  _aah_  over the picture for several minutes, their heads bent until their foreheads are almost touching.

"SO! Do ya wanna go do the corn maze with me?" Alex asks abruptly, startling John and making him jump backward.

Turtle-boy nods and they run off, hand-in-hand, towards the corn maze.

~  
"Okay, let's go... left first," John whispers as the two boys step foot into the maze. You can still hear the joyful shouts and screams from the rest of the festival-goers, but in these corn stalks, it feels like you're standing on holy ground. An ancient human instinct is awoken in you. The instinct to escape, to move, to find your way.

Alex and John run through the maze, around corners, ducking under arches, until they're worn out and have to admit that they're lost.

"Well... okay... let's rest!" Alex announces positively, sitting down and pulling his friend down with him. They stare up at the slowly darkening sun for what feels like at  _least_  ten minutes.

Then...

"A-Alex?" John says quietly, clutching his sweatshirt closer to him. His petite frame is shaking with fear and tendrils of cold that are creeping into his bones. The boy next to him frowns and moves closer, wrapping John in a hug. "Jackie, it's fine."

John bursts out crying and leans his head on Alex's shoulder. "L-Lexi, if... if we make it out of h-here, will you marry me?" Seems a bit rash, but in truth, John is so scared that they're not going to be able to escape that he'll make any promises. They're really in no danger, but to five-year-olds, no danger can feel like being on the verge of death sometimes.

Alex hugs his little friend closer. "Yeah." John's face lights up and he wipes at his eyes. "We can get married at recess on Monday, over by the swing set, and Laf can be the pastor and Herc can be the flower girl and the sisters can be the bridesmaids and you can hold dandelions for flowers and..."

They plan out their wedding for several more minutes, until it's time for them to try escaping the maze again.

"Shh, do you hear that?" Alex says quietly, putting a finger to John's lips. Both the boys pause and listen intensely.

You can just barely hear someone crying their heart out.

Our two cinnamon rolls share a glance and immediately start running in that direction, demonstrating the little-kid hope to help everyone everywhere and all the time.

"Excuse me, are you okay?" John whispers as they find the source of the noise.

The little boy with the Afro looks up through eyes full of tears. "G-go away," he stutters out.

John and Alex can now see that it's Thomas, one of their classmates at Washington Preschool. Alex creeps a little closer and puts his hand on Thomas' shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. We got a little lost too, but it's gonna be okay." Thomas shakes his head furiously and more tears spring up. "M-m-my best friend Jamesy got out b-but he left me here and I don't th-think I can get out."

Alex, with a little help from John, helps Thomas stand up, despite the fact that he's taller than both of them. "We can help you get out," Alex murmurs kindly.

Immediately John starts jumping up and down. "Guess what, guess what, Lexi said if we get out, then me and him can get married on Monday! Do you wanna get married with us?"

Thomas squints at the two shorter boys. "B-but... I don't think you c-can do that?" Alex shrugs. "Why not? My Mama said that two boys or two girls can get married if they wanted to. And I  _think_  I could get married to both of you, 'cause then I'd have two times the people, and that's good!" he says enthusiastically.

Again, Thomas squints at them. "Y-yeah, I know th-that two boys can get married, b-but we're  _five years old_  so I don't th-think that five-year-olds can get married."

John giggles and puts one of his arms around Thomas' shoulders. "It's just a  _practice_  marry, until we're old enough to get  _actual_  married." Alex's eyes widen. "Yeah, you have to be like... a MILLION years old before you're allowed to be actual married."

Slowly, Thomas nods and breaks out smiling. "Yeah... I think I  _w-would_  like to practice marry you."

The other two boys start squealing, and Alex digs around in the dust, finally finding three blades of grass and quickly fashioning them each into a loop.

"Ahem. John Henry Laurens, will you practice marry me on the playground tomorrow?" he asks, putting the grass ring on his friend's finger.

John nods enthusiastically and picks up one of the grass loops before turning to Thomas. "Tommy J, will you practice marry me tomorrow even though I haven't talked to you that much and you like tomatoes even though tomatoes are yucky?"

Thomas sticks his tongue out at the curly-haired boy but nods as well. "A-a-and, last but not least, Alex Ham-man, will you practice marry me even th-though your sweatshirt is ugly and your face is uglier, b-b-because I'm really lonely and I need to marry s-someone?" Alex grins, but not before throwing a handful of dirt at his new fake-fiancé.

With all the proposals done and accepted, the three boys link arms and, together, find their way out of the maze. Waving bye to one another, they all run off to excitedly tell their parents and friends of the two little boys they're going to fake-marry tomorrow.

~

_The next day..._

~

The next day at school, all anyone can talk about is the upcoming wedding. Sammy and Georgie and Charlie all yell about how boys can't marry boys, but no one listens to them. This is the twenty-first century, and these are idealistic five-year-olds.

When it's time for recess, Mr. Washington barely has time to say the words before his entire class starts running out the door and over to the swingset.

In less than five minutes, Laf makes a little square for everyone to stand in, Herc collects all the necessary flowers, and everyone is seated.

The two officiants, Laf and James, stand in front of the little crowd and clear their throats in unison. "Okay! We gather here today to..." Laf starts, elbowing James. The smaller boy flushes, embarrassed, and looks down at his shoes. "WitnessthemarryingofAlexandJohnandThomas," he stutters out.

At that, Herc sprints down the makeshift 'aisle,' tossing dandelions everywhere. Next come the Schuyler sisters, each with mulch tucked into their ponytails as 'decoration.'

And finally, the grooms. First Alex, then John, then Thomas. They all assemble in front of Laf and James, grinning at one another.

Laf giggles and claps his hands. "They're all here! They haven't been, how you say, runaway brides!"

James rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. No one notices but Angelica, and all she can do is frown and feel bad for the boy.

"I now pronounce you husband, husband, and other husband! Please now kiss the husbands but only on the cheek!" Laf shouts, really getting into this thing.

John quickly pecks Alex's cheek, Alex blushes and does the same with Thomas, and Thomas wraps them both in a hug.

The Schuyler sisters start singing an off-key version of 'A Thousand Years.'

Aaron looks up from his book for just a second, and gives a small smile.

Maria shifts awkwardly on her seat, wondering what this new feeling is. Happiness?

~

And no one notices when James runs off the swing set area, bursting into tears.


	2. Smol In Fall Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much Satisfied, but with James. Because Jeffmads is my life and I will go down with that ship.
> 
>  
> 
> The mega-ship of Madison/Laurens/Hamilton/Jefferson is in here. Because, reasons. Don't worry, it breaks down to Lams and Jeffmads in part 3.

That afternoon, snack time is a chaotic occurrence, even more than usual. The kids _do_ have a wedding to celebrate, obviously!

Alex, Thomas, and John, the lucky newlyweds, are sitting atop the central table, with the rest of the class clustered around them. Apple juice boxes and Oreos are being readily consumed, and the mood is jovial. Everyone is happy, except James.

The small boy pulls his sweater closer around himself and sinks down lower in his seat. There’s too much loud noise for his liking, and plus, it’s all to celebrate the ‘marrying’ of his best friend/secret crush. Overall, an unpleasant time.

“Aye! Jimmy James! Do ya wanna give a best man speech?” Thomas shouts from his perch on the table. He knows full well that James does _not_ want to, but that he will, since _Thomas_ asked.

James smiles nervously and stands up, cursing the fact that he doesn’t have the flu. Because if he did, he wouldn’t have to be here. _Dang_ those flu vaccinations.

“Al-alright… y-yeah… I can do that,” he says quietly, climbing up and standing on his chair. He’s never actually been to a wedding, so he has no idea what he’s supposed to say. Maybe starting with congratulations or something would be good.

“So… uh… good job… y’all,” James stumbles out slowly. “I think you’re supposed to make toast, so does anyone have bread?”

Mr. Washington, who, until this point, was just sitting at his desk trying to ignore the shenanigans, starts laughing hysterically and everyone quickly glances over. “No, no, ignore me, pay attention to James,” he says between laughs.

Everyone does so and the little sick boy reddens. “Yeah… toast… uh…” Next step, blatant statement of facts. “Thomas, John, and Alex got married, and also Georgieisabigbuttholeandnoonelikeshimatall.” This gets a laugh from most of the kids, and a glare from Georgie and his two-person posse.

James gives a slight smile and stares down at his Velcro sneakers. “I wish you the best of luck with your marrying and I hope you are happy.”

Thomas grins at his little friend, silently cheering him on. Oh, if only he knew, he’s part of the problem.

**(forgive me if the tense is messed up for this flashbacks bit)**

_James could remember the first time he saw Thomas. It was at Open House for the preschool and his mommy was hurrying him along so that they could get back out to the car and go grocery shopping._

_W-8, Washington’s room, was surprisingly full. For whatever reason, Mrs. Madison decided to send James in alone, which was a bad decision on her part._

_James edges his way through the crowd, sticking to the wall. Working his way to the cubby labeled as his, he keeps his eyes down. Probably he shouldn’t make friends. His dad might be mad if he takes too long._

_Then the most AMAZING boy walks over to the cubby next to his, and James can’t believe his luck. The boy is… really pretty. Like, the way James’ mommy says he is and he doesn’t think she’s telling the truth._

_But wait. James’ dad said that boys can’t be pretty. Only girls. So… maybe this boy could actually be a girl? Then he could be pretty._

_“Hey, you. Yep, you. I’m talkin’ to ya,” the boy says, waving a hand in James’ face. James jumps backwards a few steps and smiles sheepishly. The boy laughs. “I’m Thomas. Hi.”_

_James stares blankly. Crap. He forgot his name again. Uh… John? Jack? Joe? George? Something._

_Thomas nods impatiently at the smaller boy. “I’m Thooooomas, who are yoooooooou?”_

_Finally, James remembers his name. Or something close enough. “I’m a person?” he says, semi-confidently. Thomas laughs and puts his hand on James’ shoulder. “Nice to meet ya, A Person. I hope we can be friends.”_

_With that, he walks off, and James is left staring after his retreating back._ Wow _, he’s cute._

_“Jem!” he hears his mother’s voice shout, and she appears behind him. “Oh. You’re… did you see a cute girl?” she asks, voice gentler as she sees her son gazing off with what can only be described as a love-struck expression on his face._

_He laughs internally and grabs her hand as they walk back out of the classroom. “Yeah. Hi-wait,_ her _name is… uh… Theresa.”_

_Mrs. Madison smiles sadly at her son, having figured out that it wasn’t really a girl. “Well, that’s great, darling. We’ve gotta go shopping now, then you can go home and color or something.”_

_The next day, as school begins, James is in his seat, ready to learn, or at least ready to see_ Thomas _again. He can’t wait._

_For the next few weeks, James shows up earlier than everyone else, even Alex._

_Finally, one day at snack, James thinks he makes a breakthrough with Thomas._

_“Hey, do you wanna go to the fall festival with me tonight?” he asks in his customary quiet tone of voice. “My mommy said I could invite someone, and you’re my bestest friend.”_

_Thomas’ face lights up and he hugs his small friend. “Of course, Jemmy!”_

_That afternoon, James was struggling to tie his tie in a Windsor knot. Stuff like that is what his mommy said could make or break a ree-late-shun-ship, and doesn’t James want a ree-late-shun-ship with Thomas? If they had one of those ree-late-shun-ships, then they could play house together during recess, right?_

_Anyway, tying this tie is really important._

_“James!” his mommy says, coming in. James looks up from the knot he managed to create and squints at Mrs. Madison, who has tear tracks down her face. Eh. Probably she was just cutting onions for dinner or something. That’s the only explanation, right? Right._

_She laughs weakly and helps him fix it. “There. Very spiffy,” she proclaims, making sure everything’s where it should be._

_James smiles up at her. She’s the_ best _mommy ever. “Can we go to the festival now?”_

_His mommy frowns but then fixes her features back up in a bright, albeit fake, smile. “Thomas’ parents are actually picking you up. Won’t that be fun?”_

_The little boy cheers and runs to the door of their squalid apartment to await the arrival of his friend._

_When Thomas and his parents do arrive, there’s a lot of nervous glances and furtive whispers. James doesn’t like that. They whisper kinda-mean things about his mommy, and his mommy is the_ best _. But Thomas doesn’t do that. Thomas is nice._

_After a bunch more whispers and quiet discussions between Mrs. Madison and Thomas’ parents, the two boys can go._

_The festival is only a few miles down the road. As soon as they arrive, Thomas grins and pulls James by the arm into the corn maze, ignoring the admonishments of his parents._

_“This’ll be fun, huh?” he whispers as soon as they step into the shady rows. James nods his head. “Yep.”_

_The two boys walk through the maze for a while, trading secrets and stories. James learns that Thomas likes mac-and-cheese, hates the color green, and that when he was three he broke his arm trying to impress this girl at his daycare. Thomas learns that James used to have a pet mouse that disappeared under mysterious circumstances, that he still has a security blanket, and that he prefers vanilla ice cream more than chocolate. All in all, it’s pretty cute._

_They take a left turn and immediately are faced by a dead end. They’ve been wandering for quite a while, so James’ nerves are already freaking out._

_Feeling an asthma attack coming on, he frantically scrabbles in his pocket for his inhaler but it seems to have fallen out. Just his luck. This corn and grass is not helping his condition at all, add in some panic, and you have a disaster._

_“Hey… Tommy… I… needa go get… my inhaler… I… dropped it…” James stutters out between ragged breaths._

_His friend just nods and closes his eyes, sitting down heavily on the ground._

_James takes that as approval, and sprints off in the direction they came from, praying to find his inhaler soon._

_Luckily for him, it’s not too far away, and he’s able to brush most of the dust off of it._

_He runs back through the maze, looking for Thomas, but skids to a stop when he hears multiple voices._

_“_ _M-m-my best friend Jamesy got out b-but he left me here and I don't th-think I can get out.” Thomas’ voice. Some quieter voices, that James can’t quite make out, say something in reply._

_James frowns heavily and takes a few quiet steps backwards. He_ didn’t _leave Thomas there. He_ told _him that he was coming back. He_ t-told _him…_

 _“Do you wanna get married with us?” This James_ can _hear. Oh no. Oh no. Oh_ frick _no. He peers through the corn stalks. There’s Thomas, Alex, and John. James knows John. They talk together on the playground, and John sometimes share his sandwich when James doesn’t have lunch. John is nice. Alex... not so much, but he hangs out with John, so James has gotten used to dealing with him._

 _But this marrying thing. James’ mommy_ said _that boys could marry boys, but then his dad said no and yelled at his mommy. James still believes his mommy. She was probably right. So technically Thomas can marry Alex and John, but James_ doesn’t want that _. He wants Thomas all by himself._

_The three now-fiancés walk off excitedly, unaware that they’ve left a crying boy in their wake._

_James wipes at his eyes and takes puffs from his inhaler. Crying won’t do anyone any good. But his heart is broken and he_ just _turned five a month ago, so he’s not even old enough to know how to get over it._

_He sits there sobbing until he feels a little hand on his shoulder. “Hey Jem, it’s Aaron,” the little boy says gently. James nods and scoots over to make room for Aaron to sit. “Hi A-A-ron.”_

_Aaron shrugs, used to this particular nickname, and sits down. “Okay, spill the tea.” James just stares at him._ Spill the tea _? What does_ that _mean? He doesn’t have any tea, and if he did, he’d be drinking it._

_His facial expression must convey his confusion, because Aaron laughs and clarifies, “I meant, tell me what’s going on. You’re crying in a corn maze, there’s gotta be a reason.” Wow. This is the most James, or anyone else, has heard Aaron say. Aaron’s known to be even quieter than James, and that’s really saying something._

_“Oh. So… uh… Th-Thomas said he’d get m-married to Alex and J-John a-a-and…” James breaks off into sobs and Aaron puts an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be okay,” he soothes quietly. “So… you like-liked Thomas?”_

_All James can manage is a little nod. He doesn’t even care if anyone knows his crush, because it’ll never happen now._

_Aaron sighs and fidgets with his fingers. “Yeah. So, I_ might _have like-liked Alex once upon a time.”_

 _A snort of laughter slips out of James’ mouth. He doesn’t_ mean _to laugh, but… seriously? He can’t imagine anyone liking Alex like that except John and maybe Eliza. Though Thomas must like him enough to want to marry him, but based on James’ mommy and dad, that liking doesn’t need to be very much._

_Aaron glares at James. “Once upon a time. But I realized that he pretty much hated my guts and he liked John anyway. So I went and got a girlfriend.” Well, that escalated quickly._

_James nods slowly. “Theodosia, right? Yeah. So… I should go get a girlfriend?” Aaron smiles kindly. “Or a boyfriend, or a neither-friend, whatever you’re into. My mama says you can have any type of friend.”_

_Unbeknownst to these two boys, there’s a frantic search going on for them. The intercom is blaring, and their parents are looking everywhere. Well, everywhere but the corn maze, evidently._

_Needless to say, when James is finally found and goes home, his dad is… not happy._

“Hey, Madison, you okay?” a voice asks, pulling James out of his thoughts. He looks up and realizes that everyone’s staring at him. Because obviously he said all of that only in his head and he’s been standing on the chair, silent, for three minutes.

He opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is broken sobs. _Dang_ it. To preempt being laughed at, he jumps of the chair and runs into the bathroom. Bathrooms truly attract all the broken souls.

The people he left behind in the room share glances and Mr. Washington sighs heavily, feeling bad for the little boy. “I’ll talk to him. Y’all drink your apple juice.”

After another moment of pause, the kindergarteners slowly return to their festivities.

Mr. Washington walks over to the bathroom and gently knocks on the door. “James? You okay?”

The doorknob turns and James peeks his head out, eyes puffy and red. “Y-yes Mr. Washington I’m f-fine.”

In that split second, Mr. Washington has an epiphany as to why James is sad. He’s seen him in class, always tailing after Thomas. He’s seen how excited he gets when they work together on an assignment. And he saw him during the whole wedding/reception thing.

“Oh James… I’m sorry…” he says kindly, hugging the small boy. James’ shoulders shake with sobs and he buries his head in Mr. Washington’s shoulder. “I-I-I… _I_ wanted to m-marry him so w-we could… we could pl-play house at recess,” he stutters out.

“You… you can still play with him at recess if you want.” James shakes his head furiously. “No, no, no, I _can’t_ that’s called having a side bleach and my mommy yells at my dad about that because it’s _bad_ and Thomas is _good_ and he wouldn’t do that.”

Mr. Washington is struck silent for a second. How does a boy that small know about cheating? At least he knows it’s not good.

“James… I’ll talk to them, okay?”

“O-okay. Maybe I could play with a-all of them?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

James tiptoes back into the classroom, Mr. Washington following right behind.

“Okay, class, attention please!” the teacher calls. John immediately stops chugging his juice box, and most everyone follows suit.

“Thank you. So, little mister Madison here would like to ask the three Mr. Jefferson-Laurens-Hamilton if he could also marry them.” James’ face falls. That was _not_ part of the plan and now he’s gonna be embarrassed in front of the entire class.

But Thomas and John squeal in unison and jump off the table, running over to James and hugging him. “Alex!” John calls, waving the shorter boy over. Alex shrugs and walks over, sticking his hand out for a handshake. “Welcome to the marriage, James.”

The now _four_ newlyweds return to the table, and even more apple juice is consumed. Mr. Washington smiles to himself. His job is done. These kids will grow up and forget all about one another, but for now they’re happy.


	3. Swingset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!  
> Very depressing. Mentions of past abuse, maybe self-harm, mention of EDNOS, suicide, much sadness.
> 
> In letter format.  
> From James, to Thomas.

_June 27 th, 2019_

_Dear Thomas,_

_We showed up at the foster home around the same time. Actually, the same time, if I’m remembering correctly. The same van from the Child Services office. You had bruises all over your neck and refused to look anywhere but out the floor, and I was in a cast, with cuts up and down my arms. We were really a mess then, huh._

_That first day, really, the first month, we didn’t speak. We shared a room, but we didn’t speak. Except the first time we walked into the room. It used to be some girl named Maria’s, but she turned out to be pregnant and had to be moved to a separate home. They didn’t have time to repaint it, because both you and I were such high-priority cases, so the walls were bright red. I remember rolling my eyes and mumbling that it couldn’t have at least been grey. You smiled, only slightly, and replied that you thought magenta would be more fitting. That brief interaction was the only words you would speak to anyone except your caseworker, for the first few weeks at least._

_The home we were at had an old swingset in the backyard that had been there for seven years at least. It was old and creaky but I soon adopted it as my second home. I would shake the spiderwebs off one of the swings, sit my butt down, and swing. The branches from that old pear tree would poke my face, and the sunlight would shine directly in my eyes, but I didn’t care. They wouldn’t let us have razors or pencil sharpeners or safety pins or anything sharp at all, so this would have to suffice._

_I didn’t even realize you’d been standing and watching me from our room until you opened up the window and told me to switch to the other swing because you hated watching me get hurt and also did I know that my dismount technique for jumping off the swing was amazing? Naturally, I was so embarrassed, but I moved to the other swing, the one further from the tree, and I saw you smile._

_A few minutes later, you came around the house and sat down in the swing I had just vacated._ Hey _, you said._ Hey, what’s your name? _I seemed to have been struck mute. Sorry. You were just showing a true interest in my life, and no one had ever done that. Eventually we established that I was James and you were Thomas and that neither one of us wanted to talk about what led us here to the foster home. I was fine with that. I didn’t want to tell you that then anyway, although now I wish I had._

_Our friendship grew, and after another month or so, it turned into something more. By the time we were being switched to a different foster home, I was proud to call you my boyfriend._

_We arrived at Mr. Washington’s group home in the middle of Hurricane Florence. Being in Virginia, we were lucky it wasn’t that bad, but you couldn’t stop worrying about those tornadoes. I had to calm you down so we wouldn’t make a bad impression on our new foster parents. Mr. Washington was nice, and the kids were good enough. We were sharing a room again, but this time we got to paint it whatever color we wanted. I liked that. It meant we were really there. Permanent. But I guess we really weren’t, right?_

_Of course, you painted your side of the room magenta, and I started cracking up. But you just gave that adorable, cheeky smile, and I couldn’t argue with the fact that magenta was the perfect color for you. Personally, I went with a nice navy blue. A bit more adventurous than my normal grey, but you made me brave._

_Do you remember Alexander? He kept sneaking out of the house late at night to go visit his boyfriend Laurens, who lived down the street, and we kept trying to bust him. Aaron would help us too. Aaron was nice. You remember him, right? He sends his regards, I’m sure. Anyway, Alexander got revenge on us by pulling a big stink about us being boyfriends_ and _sharing a room, but Mr. Washington didn’t care. The furthest our relationship went was me throwing a pillow at you when you were up late studying and an occasional chaste kiss on the cheek._

_The Washingtons had a swingset too. A big tree too, but it was an oak. The two of us would sit on the swings, watching Philip climb up the tree, and tease the Schuyler sisters whenever they walked by. Those days felt like they’d be forever. Like we could be okay forever. Like we could forget everything that sent us to this place and ostracized us from the “normal” people._

_Then you got worse. I noticed immediately, of course. You stopped eating as much at meals, but really, I couldn’t judge for that. I didn’t eat much either. My therapist called it an Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, but I just called it not wanting to eat._

_At school, you didn’t raise your hand much anymore. You wouldn’t speak to anyone, or if you did, it was exclusively in French. Only us kids from the Washingtons stuck by you. Everyone else didn’t care. You were popular enough, but once you started breaking, you were tossed to the side like a broken toy. Luckily, the first few time, we were there on the sides to catch you._

_I didn’t say anything. You’d only confided a bit of your past to me, and it didn’t sound good at all. Neither was mine, I suppose. If either of ours were vaguely pleasant, neither of us would be or would have been facing this void. I didn’t want to betray you. I didn’t want to betray the fact that you still woke up sobbing in the middle of the night, and half a day later, would lie to the therapist and say you were fine._

_You got worse._

_I remember the evening when I was late getting home from school because I missed the bus like the dork that I am. You were okay that afternoon, laughing about Alexander’s antics at debate club, and wrapping your arms around my shoulders while we were reading in the library. I missed the bus, and you were there, smirking at me in the back window like the adorable jerk that you were. Everything was fine then._

_Mrs. Washington had to pick me up in the van and drop me off at home, before dashing off to Philip’s parent-teacher conference. That boy was really something else. A genius but always getting into tussles with the other kids, mostly after they insulted someone close to him. Don’t tell anyone, but I think what you did broke him. We were all a bunch of glass shards and he was the sharpest. But he’s still here, so it couldn’t be as bad as what you did to me._

_I opened the door with my key. We were the golden boys. Old enough to be trusted with our own key. Alexander was old enough too, but no one in their right mind would trust him with anything. Eliza had a key too. Angelica had moved out a while ago, aged out. Aaron… he left that night in the middle of the dark. Runaway or transfer, we still don’t know._

_The house was empty. Except you, but I guess at this point you were empty too._

_I found you in our room. And you had hung yourself. For days afterwards, I couldn’t breathe, imagining what it would feel like if that rope was around my own neck._

_Those days passed in a blur. The Washingtons were examined by CPS, incident forms were filled out, extra mandatory therapy sessions were given. No one noticed me half the time. No one noticed the broken boy on the floor, or the note he kept clutched close to his heart._

_“I’m sorry. I will miss you. You know this is not your fault, nothing has ever been your fault. You’re full aware of whose fault this is. You are too amazing for this horrible world and I hate doing this to you. Yours, Thomas.”_

_That was all you gave me. No explanation. I wanted to hate you so much but I couldn’t. I still can’t._

_Now._

_They’re going to repaint over the walls in our room. Because we were never really permanent anyway. Maybe blue and white stripes for a boy with too much inside his head, maybe red and yellow and green for three girls as close as sisters._

_To their credit, they never gave me a new roommate. Our room’s been the same since you died. Your magenta walls and clothes all over the floor. My navy blue walls and books all over the desk._

_I hope there’s a swingset in Heaven. If there is, wait for me there. I’ll come running to you and everything will be okay._

_Yours, yours, yours_

_James_


	4. {IDK what to title this}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Alex and John being cute.  
> I guess this takes place at like a boarding school or something. Maybe college. Probably a boarding school though.
> 
> This was just a tiny thing I wrote in like... five minutes, based off something my friend said.  
> "my enemy just sent me a picture of a turtle i think i might platonically like her"  
> My friend's enemy did in fact send him a picture of a turtle. It was cute enough.

“ALEX! ALEX! ALEX!” John shouts, jumping down the stairs two at a time. His boyfriend, the aforementioned Alex, is lying on the couch typing away on his computer and raises his head as the freckled boy hops in. “Mhmm? What’s up?”

John plops down on the floor in front of his boyfriend, all the other couches being occupied by other students, pulling out his phone. “Look, look! My enemy just sent me a picture of a turtle, I think I might platonically like him!” he says loudly, shoving the phone in Alex’s face and causing most everyone else in the room to turn their attention to him.

Alex squints at the screen and then up at the cinnamon roll of a person that John just happens to be. “Who’s your enemy? Please say Jefferson.” John nods enthusiastically, still grinning. “Yeah. He’s an idiot BUT IT’S A TURTLE HE KNOWS I LIKE TURTLES HE IS NOT A LOST CAUSE, IT SEEMS!”

The dark-haired boy gives a wry smile out of the side of his mouth and kisses his boyfriend on his forehead. “You’re adorable. Just make sure that liking stays platonic.”

John nods seriously. “Definitely. Like I said, he’s an idiot. Plus, I think he has a boyfriend anyway.”

The two boys talk and laugh for hours more, though it only seems like a few minutes. Alex gets no work done, but that’s alright. He got to spend time with his beloved John, and that’s enough.

At 10 PM, when the common room is virtually empty, as most sane people returned to their rooms, Alex and John are fast asleep, now curled up under a blanket together, dreaming of turtles and fighting Jefferson and _maybe_ , just maybe, a future together.


	5. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, lemme explain what's going on. Pretty much, John went all JD on Fifth Francis (a school) where the Hamilsquad except Alex went to school.  
> Now Alex sees the ghosts of all those friends, plus his mother and younger brother.  
> In this, Philip is Alex's brother, and Thomas and James are some of his closest friends.
> 
> IDK what's up with the ending.  
> Alex might have been cursed.  
> I really don't know.

_ I keep going to the river to pray _

_ 'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain _

Alex threw himself right back into his work. Not even a short mourning period. To be fair, no one would let him take one even if he wanted it. There’s always science tests to study for, math worksheets to complete, writing contests to win. Always with the writing. His Creative Writing teacher told him that he had so much promise, maybe he should be a political reporter when he grows up, and above all, he should keep up the high volume of work.

He got _one_ week of moping around, and then he was shoved back into the rat race. At no point was he allowed to cry. Crying is a sign of weakness and he needs to be strong. He needs to forget that any of this ever happened. That he had a mother who really cared for him, and that she was there one morning and gone by night. That he had a little brother, and that he just didn’t wake up one day. And most importantly, forget that he ever had friends in Fifth Francis Catholic School, and that they were making plans to hang out after school one second and then _boom_ there goes the school. Rachel. Philip. Thomas. Angelica. James. Eliza. Hercules. Aaron. Joseph. Peggy. And _it hurts so much to remember everyone_. Those are only a fragment of those he’s lost, and he’s expected to forget them all. To be strong.

But, _god_ , it’s hard to be strong when everything hurts. Metaphorically, most of the time. Usually he doesn’t hurt himself. It was just that one time, he swears.

_ And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away _

            Sleep? Hah. Alex doesn’t sleep anymore. He’s far too busy. If dozens of young, hopeful, _strong_ flames can be snuffed out in a second by any random John Laurens, he needs to make sure he has a legacy to leave behind in case he’s next.

_ But your ghost, the ghost of you _

_ It keeps me awake _

            During the night, when he should be sleeping, that’s when he sees everyone. Rachel leaning up against the wall, watching Philip toddle around. Thomas and James reading together in the corner, heads tilted towards one another. The three sisters sitting on the foot of his bed, giggling and gossiping like they’d always do. Joseph peering out the window, always looking for a bald eagle because “it is the great bird of this fair country.” Hercules trying to get Aaron out of his shell, with the latter usually retreating off to read with Thomas and James.

            It hurts so much. Alex knows they can see him, and he can _definitely_ see them. Philip is forever the little child, never going to start talking. Rachel is forever ostracized from her living family, never going to hold them again. And his friends… his friends… they’re never going to go down to the park, swing on the swingset, balance on any available beam, laugh together. Alex wants to hug them all. Wants Thomas to argue with him one more time, wants to hear James’ coughs in the middle of the night whenever they’d all sleep over, wants the sisters to insult his fashion with a smile.

            And John. John always shows up. The other ghosts can’t see him, or else Alex thinks he’d be doubly dead. He just stands on the fringes of the room, staring at Alex through those glasses he always got bullied about. How could anyone who started out that innocent become that horrible?

_ My friends had you figured out _

_ Yeah, they saw what's inside of you _

            Alex thought everything was okay. He thought John was actually happy for once. He thought he was joking when he compared himself to that infamous school bomber JD. God.

_ You tried hiding another you _

_ But your evil was coming through _

Maybe this all could have been avoided if Alex had told someone. If he had told someone to look past John’s nerdy braces and insanely thick glasses, to see the deeply troubled boy behind it. The one time Alex went to see a school counselor, she told him that John (well, she used the words “that poor homicidal child”) was sick (in the head) and irrational. Maybe he could have been saved. Maybe they all could have been saved.

_ These eyes sitting on the wall _

_ They watch every move I make _

            It’s night now, and they’re all back. This time, James is sitting crisscross applesauce on the bed, chatting animatedly with Thomas and Aaron. When Alex catches his eye, the smaller ghost-boy shrugs and smiles sadly. _Why_? About a week before the incident, yeah, that’s when it was, James told Alex he didn’t think his family would be able to pay for the private school anymore. Suddenly though, Mrs. Madison got an extra shift and suddenly they _could_ pay. _Why_? Why couldn’t she have not taken that shift? James would have been out of Fifth Francis by the 22 nd, and he’d still be alive. Or maybe Alex should never have transferred out. Then he’d go down with the rest of them.

            John stands near the door this time, looking like he’s ready to bolt. His gaze rests gently on Alex’s head, ever present no matter how much the latter tries to ignore him. Normally everything works out okay. Alex works the night away and the ghosts leave him alone for the most part. Philip will occasionally toddle over or James and Thomas will peer over Alex’s shoulder at his computer screen, making some comments about his grades or his homework load, but that doesn’t really bother him. In fact, he loves it. He can pretend his friends and family are really back for a little while.

_ Bright light living in the shade _

            Tonight, Alex can’t focus. The three ghost boys sitting on the foot of his bed are talking too loud and John’s really creeping him out and he hasn’t slept at all for 48 hours now, unless you count the microsleeps where his brain shuts off for a second, and he just _can’t_. Which isn’t good, because this short story is due in less than a month and he has only three-quarters of it done.

            Tuning out the little voice of reason that tells him he should work, he zones out and stares at the apparition of John in the corner. His hair hasn’t gotten any less wild since his death. It’s still framing his face in the way that Alex used to think was adorable and now thinks is terrifying.

_ Your cold heart makes my spirit shake _

             Alex shivers involuntarily. It’s cold tonight. James looks up from where he’s now pouring over an atlas with Joseph and Thomas, and flashes a little smile. Darn. Alex wishes _one of them_ would talk directly to him. They talk to each other well enough, in English and all, and Alex can understand them, but they never talk to him.

            Light feet wisp over the carpet next to Alex’s bed and a blanket is draped over his shoulders. He looks up at the beaming face of Eliza and has to choke back a new round of sobs. She was the mom friend and she wanted everyone to be okay and she was too pure and she deserved to live.

            They all did. Even John. They all deserved to grow up and become the politicians and pediatricians and psychologists and designers and biologists and teachers that they wanted to be. Philip deserved to reach his third birthday. Rachel deserved to get more years with her loving family.

_ I had to go through hell to prove I'm not insane _

            If Alex told anyone about _any_ of this, he’d be locked up and drugged up on anti-psychotic medicines. A thirteen-year-old boy, claiming to see ghosts on a regular basis? His dad would have him away in a split second.

_ Had to meet the devil just to know his name _

_ And that's when my love was burning _

_ Yeah, it's still burning _

            Alex doesn’t regret any of it. He doesn’t regret working his butt off to get that scholarship to Fifth Francis. He doesn’t regret all the arguments that somehow led to Thomas and James becoming two of his closest friends. He doesn’t regret meeting the rest of them. He doesn’t regret talking to the boy sitting in the back of the class, who looked like he had a cloak of shadows draped around him. And really, when you get right down to it, he doesn’t regret leaving Fifth Francis. Public school was better than he remembered. And he still remained friends with the original squad.

_ I keep going to the river to pray _

_ 'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain _

_ And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away _

            Alex can’t stay awake anymore. If he does, he’ll probably pass out in the middle of his geometry class tomorrow, and that would be horrible. He needs to sleep. Strange. He’s never done that with the ghosts here before. Either they’d leave around three in the morning and he’d be able to catch a little bit of sleep or he’d catch some sleep in the evening, but before it’s properly dark.

_ But your ghost, the ghost of you _

_ It keeps me awake _

            His eyes slowly start to flicker closed, and he sees all the other pairs of eyes in the room turn to look at him. Joseph smiles kindly before turning and whispering something to Hercules, who gives a little laugh, tilting his head and looking softly at Alex.

            Rachel drifts over and puts her hand to Alex’s forehead, like she used to do when he was sick with fever. Then, after lightly kissing his forehead, she floats back over next to the Schuyler sisters and engages them in a conversation.

            Somehow Alex is able to fall asleep with a smile on his face. Maybe because John slowly fades out of sight and Alex can maybe forget all that crap from the past.

_ I keep going to the river to pray _

_ 'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain _

_ And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away _

_ But your ghost, the ghost of you _

_“Alex!” the taller boy shouts enthusiastically, waving to his friend. The dark-haired boy looks up from his phone and runs over. “Hey Tom-Tom. How’s your little boyfriend doing? Sick again?” he asks, joking around. Thomas elbows Alex in the side, laughing. “He is_ not _my boyfriend. Not yet, at least. And he’s not sick, just had to talk to Miss Hirma after class.”_

 _An explosion in the distance. And then Alex is standing in front of the white building, watching smoke and flames pour out of the windows, hearing everything breaking. Then his friends are there, slowly wisping away, mouthing_ It’s all your fault _as they go. Then they’re back, as the ghosts in his room. But this time they’re angry. They’ve never been angry before. They’ve never blamed Alex before._

_It’s all his fault. He should have told someone, because he could have._

_ It keeps me awake _

            Alex bolts awake from the dream screaming. Dang it. His room is empty except for him, and that’s comforting at least.

_ Each time that I think you're gone _

            That next day at school, something is… off. Alex blunders his way through his first two classes. Gets an 88 on a science quiz, which is disappointing. Does okay on his geometry worksheets.

_ I turn around and you're creeping in _

            During lunch, everything implodes. After going through the lunch line, Alex heads back to his lonely seat near the end of the table and makes the mistake of looking up. John’s standing by the janitor’s closet, staring at him again. Alex takes a deep breath and tries to ignore him, but a flicker of movement catches his eye. John sees it too, and they both look over to where it looks like Philip is phasing into view.

            John crosses his arms and takes a step towards the little ghost-boy, and that’s when Alex explodes. “No!” he shouts, standing up out of his seat. “Stay the _hell_ away from Philip.” John looks up with a little shrug, only fueling Alex’s fire more. “And you don’t get to blow up my school too. Bad enough that you did it to your own, you’re not allowed to do it to mine!”  
            By now he’s sobbing and teachers are running over and Philip’s disappeared anyway and John’s forehead is creased in worry and Alex is breaking down.

_ And I let you under my skin _

_ Guess I love living in the sin _

            Fifty minutes later, sitting on a cot in the nurse’s office, after having no less than two panic attacks one after another and having to insist that the nurse _not_ call an ambulance for him, Alex finally has time to think.

            This is his fault. If he really wanted to, he could tell the ghosts to go away, right? He must _want_ them to stay for some reason. Sure, they’re comforting. Maybe that’s it?

_ Oh you never told me _

_ True love was gonna hurt _

            Maybe this problem would be resolved if he really did forget about them all. Forget every little quirk that made them his friends. Forget all the times they’d been through together.

            There are just so many memories.

            Someone should have told him, when he first met these kids, that the world, or theirs at least, would end and somebody should have told him not to become attached. That’s the way to survive things these days, right? Don’t be attached, and it won’t hurt when that attachment is shattered.

_ True pain I don't deserve _

_ Truth is that I never learn _

            The nurse finally releases Alex back to his class, because if he refuses to go home that’s the only option. So now he’s walking around the gym floor, like he should be, and cursing himself out for being so stubborn and staying here when he feels like he’s going to burst into tears again at any second.

            “Alexander, are you okay?” a quiet voice asks. Alex has to exert all his willpower to not roll his eyes when he sees that it’s Ana, the resident evangelist. If he engages, she’ll probably give him some spiel about “trusting your pain to God” and all that.

            He steadfastly ignores her, and after a few rounds of the gym, she runs off to talk to her own friends.

_ I keep going to the river to pray _

_ 'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain _

            _“Lexi, over here!” someone shouts loudly from across the room, and he looks up. No one calls him Lexi, not anymore, at least._

_Two boys with curly hair, albeit of different length, are waving enthusiastically from the top of the bleachers, having climbed up there. Three girls are sitting on top of the wresting mats, daring each other to jump off. That’s when Alex knows he’s fallen into a memory._

_He looks around the gym, but it’s empty except for him and the cluster of kids by the bleachers. Well, since he’s here, why not enjoy himself?_

_Alex jogs at a steady pace and climbs up the bleachers, sitting next to the… now… four? curly-haired boys. John, James, Thomas, and Hercules. So… this memory must be from before Herc got his trademark beanie._

_“So, which of those girls is the hottest?” Herc asks, gesturing out into the gym. When Alex looks out, he sees that yes, the gym is in fact filled with kids. Wearing different uniforms though…_

_Oh. It’s a memory. Duh. He really needs to stop forgetting that._

_Thomas laughs, before casually putting an arm around James’ shoulders. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not into girls. Thought we’d established.” James blushes a furious shade of red and scoots away from Thomas quickly._

_Alex has to hold in his laughter. God. Those two need to stop beating around the bush and just date already. It’s physically torturous for everybody else, watching Thomas flirt and James deny it all. Plus, despite this being a “Catholic” school, no one even cares if you’re gay or anything. Half the school is actively shipping James and Thomas together._

_“Okay, okay, yeah. Is_ anyone _here into girls?” Herc asks exasperatedly. John grins, with his smile that could power the whole city. “Peggy. And our little angry bi here.” Alex shoves him playfully. “I am not little!”_

            Good times, good times.

_ And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away _

            “Mr. Hamilton!” a teacher shouts as Alex comes back to consciousness. He blinks slowly and sits up, ignoring the shooting pain in his head. He… passed out? Makes sense, honestly. He only got that little bit of sleep, then that whole catastrophe during lunch, and also, when was the last time he ate something?

_ But your ghost, the ghost of you _

_ It keeps me awake _

             Apparently you _have_ to be sent home if you pass out in school, so there Alex is, sitting in his room reading and trying to avoid his angry father. Hey, it’s not his fault that he’s minorly psychotic and had to go home.

_ I keep going to the river to pray _

_ 'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain _

            “Welcome back, y’all,” Alex mumbles, sensing the arrival of his spectral companions. For once, they’re quiet. No chattering about the books they’ve read and what they want to do and who should date who and who’s annoying.

_ And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away _

_ But your ghost, the ghost of you _

_ It keeps me awake _

            Y’know, this reading would be a welcome break from all the stress if the ghosts would actually _go away_.

_ Give up the ghost _

That’s it.

            Alex takes a deep breath and raises his attention from his book to the amassed specters near his closet. “Hey, John?” he asks softly. The boy with the curls and broken smile looks up, his sad hazel eyes looking even larger now.

            A collective gasp from the other ghosts, proving Alex’s theory true. They didn’t know that John was there. They’re all shouting, shouting, _shouting_ , and Alex has to cover his head with his arms. It’s so loud and it hurts. James is sobbing and being comforted by Thomas, who’s cursing out John with every profanity in his vocabulary. The sisters are all screaming over top one another, their voices blending together in a chorus of anger. Joseph is insulting pretty much everyone in French. Rachel and Philip, not knowing what’s going on, aren’t shouting, but Philip is crying, scared by all the _noise_.

_ Give up the ghost _

            “John…” Alex finally says gently, after the worst of the yelling has passed. John looks up, tears trapped behind his glasses, and gives a little nod.

_ Give up the ghost _

            “Well… all of you,” Alex amends. “Please… I-I… I can’t… I keep… no… I just…” He takes a deep breath. “I miss you _all_ so, so much, but… you keep… and I can’t… I keep breaking down… and I’m running myself into the ground.”

_ Stop the haunting baby _

            “So… please… go away.”

            The anger comes back, but now it’s all directed back at Alex. “How _dare_ you suggest that?” Aaron asks, the clearest thing Alex’s heard any of them say, and the first thing said directly to him.

            Alex didn’t notice, but he’s crying too. Hot tears are pouring down his face and dripping onto his bedspread. Everything’s broken, _he’s_ broken.

_ Give up the ghost _

            Rachel is the one that calms everyone down. She says something to the other ghosts, who for the most part stop yelling, but they are still sobbing.

            Alex is in the center of a hurricane, and he needs to get _out_.

_ Give up the ghost _

_ Give up the ghost _

            “Please…” he mutters again. A flicker of understanding begins to run through the group, and one by one, they all disappear. John is still there, pity radiating from him in waves. “Goodbye Alexander,” he says, facing the wall with hands clasped behind his back.

            Alex looks up from his papers, unaware that John was still there, and nods. “Goodbye John. Thank you, maybe, for keeping me company.”

            John turns around and tilts his head, still with that pitying look. “I’d say it did more harm than good, if today was any indication. But I will see you again, and I hope I’m waiting a good long time for your arrival.”

            He begins to fade away, little flickers, little specks of light going out like candles. “Godspeed, Alexander,” he mutters quietly right before he’s gone completely.

_ No more haunting baby _

            Alex is alone in his room now.

_ I keep going to the river _

            He can’t focus on reading.

_ I keep going to the river to pray _

            It’s 9:00 now.

_ 'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain _

            His head hurts.

_ And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away _

            If he went to get water, his dad would be mad. But maybe his headache would go away.

_ But your ghost, the ghost of you _

            He sticks one scrawny leg out of bed to head downstairs, but the floor is freezing.

_ It keeps me awake _

            _Jesus_. What did he go and get wooden floors for?

_ I keep going to the river to pray _

            Well, so much for that plan.

_ 'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain _

            Maybe he should just read more.

_ And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away _

            His door creaks open and he looks up. “Oh. Hello, my old friend,” he whispers, as quietly as he would if he were stepping onto holy ground.

_ But your ghost, the ghost of you _

_ It keeps me awake _

            As the darkness edges its way around his bedroom door and skulks across the floor, Alex remembers why he was keeping all those ghosts around.


End file.
